


Fully Functional

by Z1NC



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Magical Science, More lore than I anticipated, More tags to be added, Please read the note at the end!, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rumors, Slow Burn, Time Travel, post-Endgame AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Z1NC/pseuds/Z1NC
Summary: It turns out that crazy things aren’t done happening to Steve. A day after Tony saves the universe, Steve isn’t quite sure what happens. He somehow ends up five hundred years in the future on a ship with aliens that are mostly wary around him. To make things worse— or better, really— he discovers that Tony Stark is alive and healthy. Five hundred years in the future. How is all of this possible?
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33





	1. Altum

There are giant, bipedal lizards standing over Steve. Steve’s mind is foggy. He has the thought that dinosaurs aren’t  _ really  _ extinct, because there are some standing right in front of him. His lungs ache in a particular way they hadn’t ever since the serum. When he inhales, he can tell the air is lacking enough oxygen for him to efficiently breathe. He really doesn’t begin to panic until he notices he’s laid out on a table, thankfully still clothed, but his upper arms are bound and, even with his super soldier strength, he can’t move. He isn’t in pain, but the scratches and bruises all over his body and the terrible state of his suit say he should be feeling otherwise. 

“Where am I?” 

The strange lizards stare at him, their eyes oddly knowing. It’s obvious they can’t understand him, but there’s something else there. One of the lizards turns to the other two and, amazingly enough, it’s like they begin arguing. The tallest of the lizards makes a loud hissing sound and the other two quiet down. Steve decides that he’s dreaming. The smallest of the lizards approaches him, its body a deep green that fades into blue at the tail and feet, or somewhere there at least. It’s at this moment that Steve realizes the lizards are wearing clothes. They’re wearing the works, including shirts, pants, and shoes. One of them even has a straw hat. This is definitely a dream. A creative one, at that. Steve had no idea his imagination was so extensive.

The lizard, almost nervous in the way it moves, holds out a small device about the size of a phone. Steve’s supposed to take that? Sure. He can do that. Steve grabs onto the device, which has a cool metal surface. He doesn’t get much time to process that he can  _ feel  _ it. The moment he lays a  _ finger  _ on the thing, the technology moves and wraps around his forearm, a snug fit. Steve stares at it. He can feel it. 

This is not a dream.

In his strongest voice, Steve asks, “What is this?”

This time, the lizards turn to Steve as if they understand him. It’s almost like time is in slow motion as he watches the lizard that’s wearing a hat open its mouth. 

“That is the Sue Translator. It is required by the Federation that all beings are in possession of one. Don’t play a fool. Where is yours?” The lizard is almost indignant. 

“I . . . don’t have one. Where am I? Who are you?” 

The lizard turns away and the shortest lizard takes that as a go-ahead to speak to Steve.

“You’re on our freighter. We’re very busy . . . important things, and your ship nearly crashed into our left engine. Plot says I should’ve left you out there, but Plant helped me rescue you. We checked your vitals and it looks like you need a lot of oxygen. What are you doing all the way out here?” Before Steve could even begin to process what had just been said to him, the lizard continues. “Oh, by the way, my name is Plan, in case you . . .” A dark look is sent Plan’s way by the tallest lizard.  _ Plot  _ must be its name.

Steve doesn’t know why he takes the time to wonder about their names. Strange names, is what they are. 

“Um,” Steve says, very intelligently. 

“The translator stopped working,” Plant groans, approaching Steve as he says the words. Steve’s hands shoot out to keep some sort of distance between them. 

“No. No, it didn’t,” he gulps, “I’m a little confused. What’s going on?” These guys don’t seem to be a threat to him, unless Steve is reading this situation all wrong. 

Plot, assumingly the eldest lizard, sighs. “We were hoping  _ you  _ would tell us that. What’s your name? Truly, why are you traveling this route?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says truthfully. 

Once the lizards finally realize that Steve is not kidding, that he really doesn’t know what’s happening, they begin explaining details to him. They eventually come to the conclusion that Steve is from the past.

Steve is almost scared to ask what year he’s currently living in. 

“It’s 2525, in this sector at least. What’s the last year you remember?” 

Thinking, Steve hesitates. He remembers 1945. But, no. There’s more. 

“2025,” he states confidently. That was the last year Steve remembered. The reptilian aliens stare at him skeptically for just a moment, and then Plant shrugs. 

“The Federation can probably help you. We’re stopping at Altum Station anyway. We’ll be there by tomorrow. You can reside in one of the extra rooms until then. We will also get you some new clothes, though they may not fit you.” 

Steve nods his head silently, not entirely sure of what he’s just agreed to. Plant’s brothers agree with him and carry on doing whatever it was they were doing. Steve hadn’t been shown where he was meant to stay. 

Sighing, Steve remembers the comment Plant had made regarding his clothes. He looks down, noticing that he’s in his suit, which is completely destroyed. Steve is amazed that it’s still on his body, but he’s very thankful for that fact. There’s a large bandage covering his chest. He must have been hurt and the lizards fixed him up. Steve makes the motion of standing up but gets entirely prevented by the restraints on his wrists.

“Um, Plan?” No response.

“Plant? . . . Plot? I’m still in these restraints, and I’d appreciate it if you let me out.” 

A minute must pass by before anything happens. Neither Plan, Plant, nor Plot renter the room, but still, the restraints open up like clamps and Steve snatches his arms free. 

Well, Steve truly couldn’t find any ulterior motive to any of this, so he opted to run a hand through his hair and determinedly walk his way around the spaceship until he found the place he was looking for. 

That proved to be quite difficult, considering many of the  _ other  _ aliens on the ship kept staring at him without offering him help. There weren’t just lizard people here. An almost human fish-person is doing some sort of doctor thing with medicine. Very specific, Steve knows, however it’s not like he’s not going to ask them what they’re really doing. A four-armed, slightly transparent alien is working with some wires. And, yes, these beings also stare at Steve. 

“Mother, look! That’s a human!” It’s the voice of a little girl, Steve assumes, but jumps when a sharp-toothed alien taller than him, accompanied by an alien of the same species but even  _ taller,  _ faces him. 

“Yes,” Steve agrees cautiously, not past the point of believing that they would eat him. Their teeth are larger than his hands. He feels like a little guppy in a sea of sharks. 

“Sorry . . .” 

Steve clears his throat, definitely not terrified. “Steve.” His voice comes out smaller than he would expect it to. He clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, and pretends that everything’s okay. Acting vulnerable is not a good move.

“Sorry, Steve— what a lovely human name. My child has never seen one of your kind, as you probably know. You look lost. May we help you?” 

Caution was now in the wind. Steve slumps, moving his weight from his right foot to his left and back. “Yes, thank you. I’m looking for an extra room . . . some lizards . . . Plant, Plot, and Plan told me to find a room to stay in.” 

The alien’s expression goes sour. Steve is not sure how he can tell. “Yes, the reptilians. Have you ever been to the Ent History Museum, Steve?” 

Steve shakes his head ‘no’, baffled. 

The alien makes a small, disgusted sound. “That’s alright. Not every being has enough Units to afford getaways. Reptilia declared war on Altum years ago. What was it, 2499? The Federation didn’t take it well and blamed the Altum Sector for all of the resulting issues. The news was never truly broadcasted because of the fear of another war.” 

Despite not understanding almost everything the alien had said, Steve nods along as if he knows the struggle. 

“Excuse me. Could you please direct me to the extra rooms? . . . It’s urgent.” 

The alien stares, then seems to realize something.

“Oh, of course! There are multi-creature restrooms to the left if you need to hurry.” 

Embarrassed, Steve’s face flushes and he tells the alien, “No, no. I don’t need to use the restroom. I just . . . I’m incredibly tired.” He yawns, though it’s not a real yawn. Truthfully, he just wants to get out of here. ‘Here’ being this ship  _ and  _ this time. 

Apparently convinced, the alien and the alien’s child lead him to the extra rooms. The quarters are all along the same halls, and there’s got to be a ton of them. Steve shrugs and enters the closest empty room. The lizard siblings had never told him to use a specific room, so he sees nothing wrong with it.

Steve turns around when he hears a noise, and notices that his full name,  _ Steven Grant Rogers,  _ is now on the door in clear, bold lettering. He takes a moment to stare at it in wonder and then closes the door. It seems like he’ll have to wait for Plant or Plan— definitely  _ not  _ Plot— to arrive with a change of clothes. 

Staring up at the dull grey ceiling, Steve thinks he’s not going to fit in very well in the year 2525. 


	2. Autobiography

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those fics that I can't stop writing. Thank you for the kudos!
> 
> The angst was an accident . . . I swear. Oops?

The next ‘day’ comes soon enough. It’s not really day, Steve is told, because ever since the Federation was formed, time any more specific than seasons was generally eliminated. Steve asked for more details and was really only told that yes, night and day existed, but not when you weren’t on a planet. _“We rely on where the planet’s star is. Right now, we’re using Lourc’s time— that’s the system we’re closest to,”_ Plant had explained patiently. _“You said you were from Earth, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to get used to. Sunrise is early morning, half-time is when the sun is right above you, and sunset is the beginning of the night.”_

Steve thought that, no, this wouldn’t be very difficult to get used to. He didn't particularly like it, however.

The meal that Steve was provided when he woke up was different, at best. He didn’t know what alien food was like, but a meat reminiscent of dirt was not his favorite thing to eat. Still, he was appreciative and ate it quickly. Steve didn’t know how he knew, but it had been a while since he’d had any meaningful food. 

Once Steve ate, he was pretty bored and alone. The reptile brothers— _“Yes, we’re brothers. Fair warning, though . . . not every being has a single gender, or any gender for that matter.”—_ had some sort of job on this ship, Steve figured out. They didn’t own the ship, because the brothers had suggested that Steve meet the captain, however Steve could tell their role was important. They weren’t just guests loitering and taking food supply. 

Yes, Steve currently felt like a waste of space. It was strange to admit to himself, but he was used to overworking himself and barely getting any sleep. He’d slept amazingly last ‘night’.

He was starting to feel somewhat alone, as he had this whole day. Who would’ve thought that Steve Rogers would be stuck in the future, possibly never able to see his friends again? The team was his family, and with all the death that had occurred, it pained him to think what everyone who _was_ still alive thought of him. Did they think he abandoned them? He wasn’t even sure how he was here, or how he could leave. 

Wasn’t that a thought? What if Steve could never leave? 

Three knocks sound on the door of Steve’s temporary room. Steve sits up from his previous position. “Come in,” he says cautiously.

Plot enters the room, wearing the same hat he had been yesterday. “Hello. I heard that knocking was a human social norm . . .”

Steve isn’t sure how to respond. He looks away, feeling unbelievably impolite. It seemed like Plot was showing a bit more decency towards Steve and Steve had no idea what to do about it. 

He clears his throat. “Yes, it is. Or, possibly _was,_ I guess . . . Do humans still do things the same?” 

“I . . . That is not something I have the ability to judge. You’re from five hundred years ago. I hatched ten years ago.” 

Steve pauses. “You’re a kid?” 

Plot pauses. "Not at all. The lifespan of my kind is twelve years, although my family tends to live longer. Good genes and all . . .” 

_Obviously,_ Steve mentally amends. He feels that this topic isn’t exactly polite to discuss, so he rushes to change it. What was a good thing to talk about with an alien? Steve honestly felt that Plot addressing social norms of humans was very kind. Maybe there were certain norms _Steve_ should get used to. He posed the question to Plot.

“The answer is mostly ‘no’. All of the creatures in Altum are around the same level of intelligence and we tend to do things the same, including mannerisms. The only thing you should worry about is that not everyone wears clothes, but most people have armor on. We’re going to the Altum Space Station, which is pretty strict and reserved. There will be no thieves to worry about. You are required to have some level of security access, which reminds me . . .” Plot hands a small card over to Steve, which Steve takes gratefully, but it dissolves in his grasp, revealing a small chip, for a computer maybe. At Steve’s look of confusion, Plot makes an apologizing sound. 

“We tend to not use foliage for things so mundane as paper or writings. There are some ancient libraries on Ent but they’re more for show. I just gave you your security clearance and all you have to do is plug it into your translator.” Steve does. “There you go! That’s all you need. I need to get back to the flight deck. You’re welcome to join me." 

Steve has a very uneasy feeling because almost all of his personal information, from the quick glance he saw, was on that card. Full name, age, height, underlying medical conditions, and ‘affiliation’ were details Steve had actually never shared with anyone in this time. The door had automatically known his name. He got the sense that there wasn’t very much chance for true privacy here. 

“Sure, I’d love to join you,” Steve said instead of asking questions regarding his safety. There was a possibility that he had entirely misinterpreted this situation. He could be in danger, as small as that chance was. It was better to assess his location in case he needed to escape, rather than face the possible danger head-on. He was going to be as smart about this as he could, because up until now, he hadn’t taken this seriously. Or maybe the reality hadn’t set it yet. Steve was alone. There were none of his teammates here to help him and he couldn’t place his full trust on anyone. The world wasn’t black and white, sure, but people loved to do what they could to get to the top no matter if they were ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

Steve sighs, posture tense as he follows Plot to the flight deck. It isn’t very far away from his room, Steve comes to realize. They pass a kitchen and a large sitting room and go down a set of stairs, then they’re there. The flight deck is relatively large, as far as Steve can tell. If he had to guess, there were probably two dozen people in the room. The amount of people is not what Steve first notices when he enters, though. Through the front windows, he can see a large spacecraft a good distance away from them. _This must be the space station,_ Steve thinks, amazed at the sheer size of the thing. He wonders how many people are currently on that station. 

Plot walks Steve over to where his brothers are focused on some controls. Plant looks up first. “Hey, Steve,” he says kindly, turning away from whatever it was he was working on. “Did Plot get you your identification?”

“Yes,” Plot groans, annoyed, and then walks away. Steve’s eyes follow him. Plot had just been so kind to Steve. Was he faking it so he could get Steve to accept the ID, or was he being genuine? Was there some brotherly feud going on here? Well, Steve guessed he wouldn’t get to find that out, so he left it be and turned around to face Plant and Plan. 

“Yes,” Steve repeats, “I got my identification. This station must be pretty secure.” Steve knew that already, thanks to what Plot had told him, but he wanted to see how Plant and Plan would respond. 

“It is,” Plant says. “Five or so years ago, it was flooded with bandits and outlaws. It wasn’t in the greatest place. True reform didn’t happen until about a year ago. Only beings with little to no criminal record in the Federation’s system are allowed to enter.” 

While it was true that Steve had a world of more questions, he didn’t feel comfortable asking people he didn’t know about things they could be biased on. For example, the Federation. From what Steve had gathered, the Federation was their government. Most of what he’d heard was neutral, except for the one alien mother who had complained of them blaming Altum for the war. Steve wasn’t totally sure what ‘Altum’ really was. He’d learn soon enough. 

Plan perks up. “Wait a second!” He shouts to Plot, who looks like he’s piloting the ship. Plot nods, looking to Steve, and so does Plan. 

“Do you know what hyper speed is?” At Steve’s blank look, Plan nods, like that was what he’d been expecting. “Right, naturally, you don’t. Hyper speed is faster than the speed of light. It allows us to go super fast, basically, and we usually use a couple seconds of hyper speed to end our missions. We get impatient. Plus, Captain— um, the captain of this ship, he doesn’t want us to be late, and we’re getting close. It’s just easier to go fast at the end. But it can get bumpy. So . . . hold onto something!”

That is barely a warning, because the hyper speed thing is activated a moment later. It only lasts maybe two seconds, and suddenly they’re extremely close to the station and are entering it. Steve feels vaguely nauseous. 

“Welcome to Altum Station,” a robotic, feminine voice echoes through the ship. Steve stares. It reminds him of the robot voices Tony would keep in his ceilings. This is slightly creepier, though. 

“Hello, Sue,” the crew echoes. 

“Hello, crew of the Rebirth. Here is a reminder that the trading and buying of personal materials is not authorized at this station. Please keep all unauthorized materials in the ship.” 

Before Steve can even begin to question if _Rebirth_ has any relevance (it totally does) Plan says, “We always follow the rules, Sue.”

“You have a guest, a Mr. Steve Rogers, that took a kitchen knife. It is in the waist of his pants.” 

The entire crew turns and stares at Steve. Steve has no idea what expression is currently cursing his face. He’s feeling a mixture of guilt and fear. If this really is dangerous, then they’re about to kill him. Otherwise these beings were just being nice and Steve went and ruined it. He cleared his throat. 

“I, uh. I wasn’t going to sell it. I . . . like to feel protected.” 

That didn’t feel like the right thing to say the moment he opened his mouth. It was too late, anyway. The rest of the crew ignores him, but the reptilian brothers stare at him for a long time. Plant turns to the controls. He clicks a button. 

“How’s it going, Plant? New guy doing okay?” A deep, crackly voice comes from over the voice transmission. Steve stares in the direction of where the voice comes from. It’s mildly familiar. 

“About that . . . He may be a little dangerous. Sue pointed out that he snagged a knife from the kitchen on his way to the flight deck.” 

A pause. “Did he say why?”

“No—”

“Hey, I don’t know about you, but if that was me, I’d feel threatened to the max. Cut him some slack. If he gives you trouble, hand him over to security. But from what you’ve told me, he’s the nicest of the nice. He’s just trying to protect himself. Over and out.”

Plant stares at the voice transmitter and Steve notices that the conversation had caught the attention of the crew. Plant shrugs. 

“You heard the captain. Don’t cause trouble.” 

Steve felt he had ruined something between him and the brothers, just when he was getting somewhere. Steve stands at a wall and stares as some of the crew hauls things out of the ship. The knife is a heavy weight in his hand. A crew mate, remarkably short, approaches him. 

“They’re not mad,” they say, glancing at the brothers. Steve shrugs. 

“I don’t know about that. They have a right to be mad.” 

Silence passes. “No,” the voice disagrees. “They’re nice. They’re not mad.” The way this alien talks makes Steve think they’re a kid. He almost just dumped all his problems on a _kid._

“What’s your name?”

“Play. _Your_ name is Steven Grant Rogers,” the kid giggles. That sounds very similar to the names of the brothers, so Steve takes a chance and asks if they’re related. 

“Wow, you’re like a detective! Plan, Plot, and Plant are my brothers. They work here. They’re really cool. Did they say we have a sister too? Sisters are very rare with us. That’s what dad said. Do you know why?”

“No,” Steve says, encouraging Play, drawing the word out. He’s such an excited kid, Steve loves it. 

“Me neither,” Play says sadly. “I’m in school, and I think I learned your name. Do _you_ know why?” That was the first time that anyone had acknowledged the chance of recognizing him. His suit had been torn for as long as anyone had seen him, Steve assumed, and he hadn’t been around for five hundred years. It was strange that a little boy was the first to question him. 

“No, I don’t,” Steve lied. “Maybe you should ask your teacher?” 

Play scowled and crossed his arms. He looked like he was about to have a tantrum. “I don’t like my teacher. She’s mean.”

Steve, mildly put out, sighs. “She’s mean? How come?” 

“She doesn’t like me because of the war, but I was a baby! I couldn’t fight in the war when I was a baby, you know.”

“I _do_ know,” Steve responds, hoping one day he gets to meet this teacher of Play’s. She sounds awfully rude. And there’s the mention of that war again. _Even if the Reptilia were in the wrong,_ Steve thinks, _it’s not right to blame a kid for it._

Finally, Plan makes his way over to Steve and tells him they’re ready to go. “We’re going to be with you the whole time,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind . . .”

Steve understands. He has to earn their trust back, and it’ll take a lot longer than it did before. “I don’t. And I understand. I’m happy to follow you around.” Plan brightens, apparently nervous that Steve would refuse and sulk, or something. 

“Great! We have to visit the Captain of our ship first. He’s been here for business, I think. He doesn’t like business very much, fair warning.” 

Steve, now relaxed, tucks the knife into the waist of his pants once again and follows Plan and his brothers out of the ship. He’s content to listen to Plan keep talking and talking. At least there’s something constant here. 

That content feeling gets ruined in a second flat. 

Steve steps into the space station and gawks at the red and gold engulfing the area. 'Happy Iron Man Day!' a large banner reads. When Steve asks about the gaudy decorations, one of the aliens responds with: "It’s the five-hundredth anniversary of Iron Man Day. We’re here to celebrate!" He’s not sure who says it, really. He’s too distracted by _everything._

“Iron Man? _Tony Stark,_ Iron Man?”

Plot stares at him weirdly. “Who else is Iron Man— ow.” Plant elbows Plot calmly. Do they have elbows? It sure looks like it. 

“He prefers to be called ‘Iron Man’ by the general public. To us, he’s Captain Stark. Is everything okay, Steve?”

Steve had felt the color drain from his face. This was really real. Like, extremely real and not at all impossible. Tony Stark was alive. In the future? He needed to see Tony. He needed to ask questions and get to the bottom of this. 

“I need to see Tony.”

The brothers hold a silent conversation with each other. Plant shakes his head. “We were going to see him, Steve, but I think you need more of a background check before you can go see him. You have to admit you’re acting a bit strange. What have you not told us?”

Steve nods his head. He understands where they’re coming from, but he needs to talk with Tony. _Right now._ He had been dead. Apparently he never was. “I need to see Tony,” he repeats. He notices Plot inching closer to him. He runs off before anyone can touch him. There’s signs everywhere pointing Steve in the right direction. He hears one of the brothers call for security. The other two are running after him. He smiles, wondering where Play is. 

Steve considers the fact that there will be more security before he can get to Tony. Knowing Tony, he has an office on a floor above them, or something. 

What do you know? Steve is right. There’s only two guards at the entrance to the elevator, however, not a ton. They clearly know that security had been called on Steve, because they ask him to stop in his tracks. Steve can’t do that. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, really. Maybe he’s running because he’s tired of being so alone, so far away in time from everyone he’s ever known. That’s too much for Steve to think about, so instead, he thinks about how much Tony is either going to hate or admire him for doing this. He avoids the lasers being shot out of the weapons the guards have. Steve knocks them out quick enough and rushes into the elevator. 

There are no buttons inside, but the doors close, preventing the incoming guards from entering. 

“Mr. Steve Rogers,” that same robotic voice from before says. _Sue, right?_

“Sue. I need to see Tony. Tony Stark.”

“You seem familiar with him. More than a bandit would be.”

“Yes, yes—”

“Captain Stark is curious about you. You are being sent up.” The amount of relief Steve feels at that statement is immense. He says against the wall of the elevator. It’s only a few moments before the door opens. Tony is waiting right there, no weapons in-hand. He knows Steve is safe. Steve smiles, stepping closer. 

_“You!”_ Tony shouts, offended already and Steve hasn’t said a word. At this point, Steve notices Tony’s cautious expression. “I just got yelled at yesterday because I was using an image inducer, and it wasn’t even on my _face._ But you— _whoever you are—_ you get to disguise yourself as _the_ Captain America? Life truly isn’t fair.” Tony pouts in a distinctly Tony way. 

“Tony—” 

_“Oh,_ I get it. You’re either a drunk hallucination or you want to have sex. Either way, this breaking and entering stuff isn’t too nice, buddy—”

_“Tony,”_ Steve says firmly, frowning. If Tony would just let him speak, he could explain what was happening instead of Tony filling in the blanks completely wrong. 

“Oh,” Tony says, not sitting down but definitely deflating a bit. He looks lost. “Your . . . Your impression is pretty good.” 

“Tony, I’m _Steve._ I’m me. I woke up in the future yesterday. Plant, Plot, and Plan— the brothers, they helped me. I was on a ship out there. I don’t know how. But I’m here now?” 

It was painfully obvious that Tony wouldn’t even consider his story. 

“Listen, I adore the backstory. You, however, need to put a little more effort into it. Time travel? Cap hates that stuff. Do better.” The disapproving look on his face makes Steve feel like a little kid. It’s terrible and Steve almost walks right out of there. What kind of welcome is this? Steve had been too hopeful. It made sense for Tony to be cautious. That didn’t mean Steve had to like it. 

“This isn’t _right—”_

“No, it _isn’t._ Go to the elevator or I’ll invite security up.” 

Steve had been slightly judgmental when he’d seen Tony pout at him earlier, but he’s pretty sure he’d pouting right now. He doesn’t mean to, really. He’s just incredibly sad that he has a chance to not be alone and Tony won’t even listen to him. When Steve had woken up from the ice, the world felt unreal, as well as the people. Tony Stark had originally been mentally deemed by Steve as one of those guys he used to get into fights with. But Steve knew better now. Tony Stark wasn’t a bully, he just wanted people to think that he was. 

Tony has trust issues. That’s part of why it was so difficult for Steve and Tony after Bucky came back into Steve’s life. Steve couldn’t say he regretted not telling Tony what he had known— he’d protect Bucky as long as he could, because it really wasn’t Bucky that had killed Howard and Maria Stark. Tony couldn’t understand it, but at least he’d come to accept it politely. Or, well, as politely as Tony Stark could do anything. 

“Tony . . . I won’t leave.” It wasn’t that he _wouldn’t_ leave, it was that he _couldn’t._ Captain America shouldn’t feel fear. He was strong, stoically confident, and a hero. Heroes stayed strong for the people they were protecting. 

“Sue, call se—”

_“No.”_ Steve couldn’t let this happen. If Tony never figured out that he was really himself, he’d probably never get to see Tony again. Steve would be lost in this time. He wanted to have someone to lean on most, but Bucky wasn’t here.

Tony’s eyebrows rose, but not in realization. There was no moment of discovery. He was in disbelief, Steve could tell. How much of an idiot did he think the man standing in front of him was? Steve must look like a fool, standing here as Captain Rogers but feeling nothing like the hero he was supposed to be.

“I’m me. How do I prove it to you?” Tony hadn’t tried to call security again. Steve took it as a good sign. “I’m Steven Grant Rogers, but no one calls me Steven, ‘cept my mama. I fought alongside you once I got out of the ice. I hated you at first, you know. You were rude to me and to everyone around you. It was all an act, though, because Sam told me that you looked up to Captain America and simultaneously hated me. I think it’s because Howard paid more attention to me than he did you. You don’t like being called ‘Mr. Stark’ because it makes you think of your dad. I’m sorry he didn’t listen to you . . . We ate shawarma after the Battle of New York. Do you remember that?” 

Silence permeated the room. It hurt Steve to see Tony’s expression stay the same. Why didn’t that work? Why was Steve still a stranger? Steve didn’t try to stop Tony from calling security this time. Tony stayed silent as the elevator got closer to their floor. Steve didn’t dare move. 

The guards entered the room and crowded Steve into a wall and handcuffed him. Truthfully, the cuffs didn’t seem like they would do much. They were flimsy. Steve gripped the chain and it squished in his hands. Is this how he had to prove he was genuine to Tony? There had to be another way. There was always the possibility that some other alien could be inhumanly strong. They weren’t humans, were they? 

Steve was being hauled into the elevator. He didn’t resist, but rather made the guards drag his weight. There were three of them. Did Tony feel weak here? Humans had to be puny in comparison to the beasts Steve had passed on his way here. 

Only when Tony began to turn away did Steve speak again. He hadn’t wanted to say this in front of people. 

“Morgan, your daughter . . . You didn’t want her growing up with people watching her every move, so you and Pepper kept her pretty secret. You only told the team.” 

The elevator doors closed just as Tony turned around. The guards didn’t seem surprised to hear that Tony had a child. Had Steve failed? 

The doors opened once more. 

“Security, stand down,” Tony spoke slowly. The beings let go of Steve and he stumbled forward, back into the room. Tony was staring at him like he had three heads. Steve felt clunky. 

“What’s the name of my autobiography?” 

Since when did Tony have an autobiography? Had he neglected to tell the team? Was it in the works back in time and he’d only finished it in the future? Steve was panicking, and that panic lessened when he saw the relieved smile on Tony’s face. He believed Steve, though Steve didn’t know what he’d done to earn the sudden trust. Steve watched Tony ask the guards to leave, and they obeyed quickly. 

Steve just felt lost. Tony sat down on a nearby stool and motioned for Steve to join him. Tony started pouring himself a drink. So this was a minibar, where Tony drank the nights away. Steve wished he could get drunk.

“I never wanted to write an autobiography. Definitely not back then. But when all the beings here started catching on to who I was, they told me to tell my story. So I did.”

There weren’t any other words spoken between them for a while. 


	3. Urgent Transmission: Compromised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any errors! I wanted to get this chapter out ASAP. It’s a little shorter than the previous.

The sky is always dark _and_ light in space, but Steve can feel the mood change as time passes. He and Tony are tired. Tony speaks in a slow, soft way. 

“A lot of what you said about me was in my autobiography. The Federation pretty much forced my hand, in this case. I thought you were a crazy fan, when you said all that. Sometimes the beings here _are_ crazy. Am I that breathtaking?” 

Steve has been drinking water this whole time, though _sipping_ is probably a better term. He doesn’t think he can stomach more than a little bit. Apparently, water is abundant in the universe. Steve doesn’t care much about the rest of the universe. He wants Tony to tell him what’s going on, but it seems like Tony only knows a bit more than him. 

“I didn’t think you knew so much about me,” Tony says, staring down his empty glass. Steve thinks he hasn’t poured another because he simply doesn’t want to. He probably doesn’t want Steve to know even more about him. It was too late for that, wasn’t it? Steve would never express this, but Tony had always been unbelievably easy for him to get a read on. The man never fidgets. He likes to act crude and perfect all at once, and is terrible at letting people know he needs help. He loved Captain America as a child, and maybe even as an adult, but when Steve showed up, Tony’s image of his hero was ruined. 

Steve tried not to fret over it. He sometimes wondered if he ruined Tony’s life. 

He also did not want to talk about their strained friendship right now. 

“When did you get here? The future.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, snapping out of some state of mind. “Yeah, that was a year ago today. Exactly. I—” He cleared his throat. Was he nervous? “I was . . . It was a culture shock, honestly. I woke up in this station, actually, and the whole crew freaked out on me, because it was Iron Man day and all. I found out later that years after my ‘death’—” he made quotations with his fingers. Steve watched. “— Morgan revealed to the public that she was my daughter. She wrote an autobiography too. I’ve read it . . . a lot. The parts mentioned me . . . It’s about what she remembers of me and more about the impression she got of me as she grew up. She painted me as a good guy.” Tony paused there, and finally began pouring himself another drink. 

A feeling bubbles in Steve’s chest at the sight. It’s not pity, it really isn’t. It’s frustration. He wants Tony to stop thinking the wrong way for once. Tony takes a large gulp of the drink— it’s purple, and looks disgusting, but it must be acceptable for Tony because then he takes another gulp. Steve nudges his half-full glass of water. 

“You _are_ a hero Tony. That’s why you have a day dedicated to you.” 

Tony shrugs, a sad, delayed motion. He won’t look Steve in the eyes. “Where’s _your_ day, Captain? It’s not about being a hero, it’s about how much you made people care about keeping you a legend. You never cared about what people thought of you . . . and that’s _all_ I cared about.” 

Suddenly this whole situation becomes clearer. Tony is afraid to not be alone. He thinks he’s selfish. He’s felt completely independent for a year, and maybe his whole life. Tony’s acceptance of the Avengers took a while. And all of it was ripped away from him. All of this still didn’t make much sense to Steve. Tony had sacrificed his life for the entire universe. Did he feel guilty that he lived? That was his reward for his sacrifice, Steve thinks. Guilt always haunts survivors, one way or another. It haunts him. 

“You’re a hero,” Steve spoke firmly. 

Tony shakes his head and they’re quiet for a while. Tony doesn’t get another drink. 

“My crew didn’t recognize you,” Tony says slowly, carefully. He’s _very_ guilty, Steve realizes. “It’s because your suit was all torn up. How can no one recognize Captain America’s face? Everyone learns about the Avengers in school, Cap. Do you know why?” This conversation reminds Steve of when he’d spoken to Play earlier today. Was Tony babying him? He didn’t want it. He knew the answer, and for some reason Tony thought it’d make him mad. 

“Children learn about the team in school because we’re associated with you. It’s okay, Tony. _You_ saved the universe, not us.” 

Tony lifts his gaze, but not to Steve. He looks like he wants to run far, far away from the conversation they’re having. Steve can admit that this isn’t fun for him, it never has been. Getting Tony to realize how deserving he is has always been difficult. Even more recognition hasn’t helped that. What was Steve thinking? Tony had been without anyone for a year. Steve could only imagine the damage it had done to him. 

“The Federation was formerly SHIELD, which I found out when they basically kidnapped me from Terrad and took me to their Altum Base. It’s on Ent. Everything happens on Ent. I’m assuming you’ve heard of it by now?” Tony wears a wry, unapologetic smile. Steve can’t place why his mood changed so suddenly. He doesn’t want to go along with this, but he does anyway. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of Ent. I know there’s a history museum there . . . and ancient libraries. What happened at the base?” 

Tony goes back to being a sack of sadness when Steve asks this question. It’s odd. Steve doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. How much has Tony changed in a year? 

“Not anything weird, thankfully. Well, bad. No human experimentation, which is less of an ethical issue now that we’ve found a lot of creatures smarter than us. All testing is voluntary . . . They elected me most influential being alive for 2524. And sexiest human of 2524. Sexiest reptilian went to Plot, did you know that? The whole rude thing really works for him, I guess. I’m not attracted to reptilians. I think? Um. Everyone still reads magazines . . . virtually, of course . . . Anyway, the adjustment wasn’t very bad. The Federation isn’t my favorite organization, but they get their job done. They just don’t do much else.” 

Nodding along, Steve thinks that he’s known quite a few people that do the bare minimum in his life. He can’t be one of those people, and neither can Tony, apparently. There was a reason Tony had just told him about the _‘sexiest human alive’_ thing. Steve wasn’t going to ask, because he knew Tony was conventionally attractive anyway. Well, he was appealing to a lot of people. He was handsome and smart and much kinder than he’d been in 2014. Steve had to wonder, though, how many other humans there were. He’d only seen Tony. 

Besides, Steve has caught on to what Tony is trying to tell him. “We should go to the Federation and have them look me over, right?” 

Tony grins. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking. You read my mind, Captain-a-Doodle-Do.” 

Steve finds that he would miss the nicknames if Tony were truly gone. He’s glad Tony’s here. If only he could work up the nerve to tell Tony that. 

Walking to the Rebirth has to be the most off-putting experience of Steve’s life. There’s tons of guards standing just outside of the elevator doors. Tony scowls when he sees them. Steve doesn’t dare move. 

“I thought I sent out _urgent_ transmissions specifically saying to stay away from the elevators. Did all of your transmitters malfunction while I was gone?” Tony is . . . angry, Steve thinks. He sounds so demanding compared to just moments before. Was he in a worse mood than Steve thought? 

The guard closest to them seems surprised. They speak with a constant shake of their head. “No, Captain, they did not malfunction. I told my troop to directly disobey the order. We had the impression that this man is dangerous.” 

Tony relaxes at this admission. Steve has no clue why. 

“Alright. Stand down, then. Tell the crew to get the Rebirth ready for flight. We’re heading to the Federation Headquarters.”

“But—”

“Stock up on as many supplies as needed. We won’t be taking any breaks.” 

And that’s that. Steve gets a chance to truly take in the station as they make this way back to the Rebirth. It’s a colorful area, full of people who are, admittedly, acting cautious because of the uproar earlier. It looks to Steve like there are multiple shops and places to eat as well as homes. This is a huge place, and Steve doubts that he’ll ever explore every inch of it. It’s impressive. 

The docking bay, which Steve had previously neglected to admire due to the fact that he was focused on feeling guilty for taking the kitchen knife— which he still has— is incredible. This area isn’t as colorful, but there are plenty of lights in every nook and cranny. There’s a lack of uncomfortableness as he walks through the area. This station does a very good job of making things seem personal. 

Multiple beings are loading boxes onto the Rebirth. When they spot Tony, they welcome him as their captain and Tony almost winces at the title. Steve wonders if he dislikes the title he’s been given, or if he’s guilty. Steve sees no reason for Tony to be unhappy with this particular thing. Steve doesn’t mind hearing someone else being called ‘Captain’ for once. It’s a new experience, sure, but not at all unwanted. Maybe even embraced. Steve feels like he has no expectations right now. He’s sure no one besides Tony, and possibly Play, understand who he really is. There’s a certain amount of relief that comes with. 

Tony begins working on the ship, in the flight deck, as if it’s connected to him. Steve thinks he’s always been good with technology. 

Plot approaches them, uncaring when it comes to Steve’s presence. He, like Tony, doesn’t see Steve as a threat. Maybe Steve had misjudged him, and so had everyone else. 

“Sir,” a fluffy, mammal-like being calls out, standing stiffly to the side near the windows, facing Tony. Tony faces them. “Sir, we’re heading to the base? May I ask what you require there?” 

Tony smiles, a small quirk of his lips. Steve stares. “I require some answers, and I’m sure Steve does too.” Steve smiles, despite himself. When the alien walks away suspiciously, Tony leans in close to whisper in Steve’s ear. He places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It’s a warm, solid weight, and Steve almost forgets to listen. 

“Listen . . . I’m gonna be busy doing my captianly duties, right? I want the crew to feel safe. Not trying to banish you, Cap, but you’ll be spending most of this time with Plot-meister.” 

Steve agrees. He really does understand, and he’ll tell anyone that he does. He made a scene, potentially endangered this crew’s captain, and he had to prove himself again. This wasn’t Steve’s first rodeo when it came to proving himself. He can think back to all of the times the jerky guys harassing girls thought he was all bark and no bite.

The warmth of Tony’s hand on his shoulder is gone. Steve does not frown at the loss. He takes a deep breath and focuses on his happy memories, pretending the smile blooming on his face is because of them. He’s not sure what else would cause this happiness swelling within him. 

☆

Steve Rogers was not a particularly intelligent man. He didn’t get a good education when he was a kid in Brooklyn, and he sure wasn’t going to get one now. He had time to sit down and read some books occasionally, sure, but he didn’t have time to go to school. Oftentimes, Tony made him feel unbelievably dumb. Not that Tony was trying to, of course, but Steve tended to take a lot of things personally.

He took the virtual documents in front of him very literally.

Plot had led Steve to a side room and handed him a very high-tech (but probably normal for this time) tablet. Steve grabbed it gratefully, and only when the two of them were sitting there for a short while did he realize he wasn’t being babysat. Steve did feel a bit sour about it. He pursed his lips and continued exploring the internet. He assumed it was still called the internet. 

Various virtual magazines and advertisements filled the screen. Steve hadn’t looked at anything substantial yet for the sole reason that he didn’t know what to look at first. There was a lot being shown to him right now, and it was admittedly a lot to process. An article titled ‘Iron Man Attacked at Altum Station?’ caught his attention. Steve had no doubt that he’d be talked about in this article, and he didn’t want to read it. However, he thought that maybe it’d give him some information regarding Tony. Once he read through the words, it became apparent that anyone who had read or who were to read this article would see Steve and try to defend Iron Man’s honor by getting him arrested. Or worse. It was strange for Steve to not have a good reputation with the general public, and this was just the thought of it. 

Underneath the article were related articles, and one of the related articles must have been written just a month or two after Tony got to the future. The writing was only praising, and a particular part of it caught Steve’s eye. 

_It was revealed earlier this morning that Tony Stark, the Iron Man, got severely injured when he snapped. Stark told reporters today that his right arm had been fractured and left with severe burns while his entire right hand had been shattered. The reactor that helps keep him alive is undamaged. He displayed his new metal hand at the end of the questioning and cracked a joke. “I’m really starting to become an_ iron man _, huh?” [Image below.]_

The image showed Tony with, amazingly, a metal hand. In the other hand he held a black glove. His arms were spread wide, welcoming, but there was no sign of happiness in his features. Had he been wearing that glove when he was with Steve, and is that why Steve hadn’t noticed this huge change? Tony hadn't mentioned it either. He was still recovering. Truthfully, Steve thought Tony was lucky that his whole arm hadn't been destroyed. On the other hand, he thought that Tony and Bucky might finally be able to bond over something, but . . . nevermind. 

Steve felt a sudden wave of self pity wash over him, and he didn’t like that one bit. Tony had gone through so much more than him, and sacrificed more than him, and Steve was shameful that he’d even had the thought he was let off bad. Because he wasn’t. He’d only been alone for around a day in the future before he’d had contact with Tony. Tony had suffered terrible injuries and, from what Steve had gathered, didn’t exactly enjoy his life for the past year. Were years longer here than on Earth? Steve wondered. 

A related article mentioned something called ‘SIU’ and Steve clicked on it, already falling down the rabbit hole of stories written about Tony and his works. 

It turns out SIU stands for ‘Stark Industries Universal.’ The title had obviously been adopted by the company once it went, well, universal. According to the article, prior to Tony’s appearance in the year 2524, Stark Industries Universal was a galactic weapons manufacturer. Steve frowned, staring at the screen. That must have made Tony immensely angry. He’d worked so hard to stray Stark Industries away from weapons manufacturing, and time had betrayed him. Maybe that was the only logical outcome. A lot could happen in five hundred years. 

Thankfully, ever since Tony’s return, the company diminished its weapons creation. A comment made by Tony was at the end of the article. It was an audio recording, accompanied by captions. 

_“Stark Industries Universal will now be managed entirely by an AI to avoid certain interactions that I don’t approve of. The AI’s name is SIU, pronounced like the name ‘Sue,’ spelt S-I-U. It’s short for a really long phrase. I thought it was cute, sue me. Or don’t. Information and decisions will go to me, and no one else. All staff still have their jobs, if they choose to keep them. Otherwise, I am looking for a crew for my freighter, the Rebirth. I do not intend to incite violence any time soon. Please spread the word that Stark Industries Universal will not be producing weapons of mass destruction any longer. Thank you.”_

Before the recording was over, a flurry of voices filled Steve’s ears, and then all was silent. This must have been a huge deal at the time it happened. Something was missing from this story, Steve thought. Something Tony, the man himself, probably had to tell him. 

SIU, _not Sue,_ Steve remembers, embarrassed, begins speaking all around him.

“Transmission from Commander Fury, marked urgent.” The upcoming transmission, which does indeed act sound urgent, is spoken by an awfully familiar voice “Stark, the base has been compromised. Get over here as soon as possible. Agents are fleeing. I’m fine, stuck in a storage room. We don’t know who it is.” A loud crash interrupts the Director, now Commander Fury. Panic rushes through Steve, and he stands quickly, ignoring Plot’s protests as he listens to the remainder of the transmission. 

“What the—”

There’s another crash, and a sound not unlike a gunshot. A strong but exasperated feminine voice begins speaking. 

“Hi, Tony. This is—” _It’s Nat,_ Steve thinks, practically sprinting to the flight deck, where he finds Tony staring in shock. “— Natasha. Fury’s safe. We need to talk but, as you’ve heard, the base has been compromised. I’m sending coordinates.”

The transmission is over, and Tony’s crew is remarkably calm. Steve feels incredibly upset at this realization. Did all of them know about Fury and Nat? Tony turns to Steve, a guilty, terrified look crossing his features. 

“Okay, Hulk two-point-oh, I obviously did not know about our lovely Black Widow being back. Before you attack me, please let me explain. On our way there. Because they’re in danger.” He flashes a bright, nervous smile. Steve droops, questioning the legitimacy of Tony’s words. Oh, well. It’s not like he can pull a lie detector out of his pocket and determine the truth. 

And there’s one other thing. Steve may be dumb, but he’s not stupid. Tony had neglected mentioning Fury throughout his defensive speech. Yeah, Tony had _a lot_ of explaining to do. 

“I’m sitting here,” Steve says, not at all childish. He sits down in an empty seat— he’s not cruel, he won’t steal someone’s place— and determinedly frowns in a way he hopes will get Tony to hurry up whatever he has to do. He is disappointed, and maybe he should be nicer about this, but he won’t be. Tony sends him a quick glance and ignores him in favor of focusing on his ship. _The Rebirth._ What is that about? Steve really knows nothing. 

They go into hyper speed right away, and Steve pretends that he’s not feeling like a seasick man on a ship in very crazy waters. He will not puke his muddy-tasting breakfast while they’re flying, not before Tony tells him where the good-tasting food is. 

Tony sits down next to Steve, which is followed by a few strange looks from the rest of the crew. Steve ignores everything, staring intensely at Tony. “We’re headed to Sappell, a nation in Ent. It’ll be a little dangerous, so . . . here.” He hands Steve a weapon. It’s a shield— not _his_ shield, of course, but it’s better than nothing. Steve doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to forgive Tony just yet. After all, he still has some taking to do. 

“Thanks,” he nods, and then waits for Tony to speak once more. 


	4. Journey

Who knew a shield could feel so significant? Steve sure didn’t, and he was Captain America for decades. Now, though? Now he didn’t know who he was. The shiny, silvery shield sits harmlessly next to Steve, yet the members of this ship— excluding Tony, of course— look at that shield like it could kill them. Steve frowns. 

Tony could care less about the hunk of metal he’d handed over to Steve. He’s contemplative right now, thinking up the right words to say to Steve. Steve is feeling dangerously taunted by the information being held away from him, the information that Tony was going to  _ wait  _ to share with him. He doesn’t care if he’s being stubborn, he feels like this is important. Steve doesn’t like being left out of the important stuff. Especially when, well, it involves him somehow. 

“It was a rumor, at first— that our  _ dearest _ friend Fury was alive. Cap, you’ve gotta understand. I heard this crap from some kids, talking and giggling about the man with the eyepatch that was a time traveler. Time travel is still very unsafe, I’ve heard. I don’t want to go near it. Whoever works with that . . . they’ve gotten objects to travel— nothing alive— but, even then, they get messed-up on the way. Anyway. All of this blossomed into a rumor about Director of SHIELD, Nick Fury being back. I was never told anything, but . . . as we’ve heard, it never was a rumor. I didn’t know about our lovely Natasha, I swear.”

Steve does not question any of that story, as much as it does seem fictional. This is the future, he has to remind himself. Anything could be true, like Captain America being looked at like (more of) a criminal. 

Steve really does want to ask Tony truly personal things, like about what lies underneath that black glove, or where his armor has been all this time, but he doesn’t. 

A thought comes to Steve, and it feels like a bright, blinding light that hurts his eyes. “How do we know it’s really him?” 

It’s like a movie, the way Tony gulps and slowly opens his mouth. “We  _ can’t  _ know.” He sounds like he’s had the exact same thought before. At Steve’s completely affronted look, Tony jumps to continue. “Hey, don’t jump to conclusions. The Reb— my ship may not be equipped with weapons, but I’ve got the  _ best  _ negotiating skills.” He shoots Steve a crooked grin, and something in Steve relaxes. The man in front of him will never fail to surprise him. He doesn’t mention the shield. It feels out of place. 

After basking in the comfortable silence, the both of them smiling softly, Tony grips Steve’s shoulder for a second, a grounding action, and Steve hadn’t even realized that Tony’s hand was there. But he notices when it’s gone. 

“Great! No worries, be happy. I hope you enjoy the rest of this bumpy ride! Captain Stark, signing off.” Tony salutes jokingly, then he walks away, just like that. Steve smiles wider and looks down, trying to hide it. Tony is possibly the dorkiest man he’s ever met. No, Steve usually wouldn’t use that word, but he feels it fits Tony nicely, like a nice pair of shoes. Steve is not wearing a nice pair of shoes right now, he notices as he stares at the ground. They look just like hand-me-downs. Steve tries to ignore the thoughts of Brooklyn. He has to learn to embrace the future at some point, right? 

It’s harder than it sounds, to be honest. 

He spends a lot of the admittedly bumpy ride sitting, doing nothing but staring out of the wide, tall windows that are pretty much everywhere around the ship. Watching the stars move in streaks is a little disorienting. What had Plan called this?  _ Hyper speed?  _ Faster than the speed of light, right? Steve wasn’t very science-y, but he had a feeling that this was the fastest he’d ever traveled. While, yes, this was disorienting, Steve began to find some semblance of comfort in the amazingness of it. This was outer space. 

He didn’t smile, not quite. It was a near thing, however, and he wasn’t so mad about the hyper speed anymore. 

Eventually, particular stars get closer and closer, and then some stars are revealed to be planets. The only actual star there is a bright blue, and it’s a lot larger than the planets they’re getting closer to.

The ship passes a planet that is about the same color as the sun, just paler. The next planet up is somewhat baby pink, with a few spots of neon green. Steve doesn’t even realize they’re going to go on that planet until SIU says, “Approaching planet Ent, docking in the Sappell Nation Port.” 

The whole hyper speed thing obviously stops, because their speed is distinctly slower and the ride is a lot less bumpy. Steve watches intently as the green spots get closer, revealed as pools of green, and the land, which is full of bluish foliage, gets more detailed. The docking port they land at is made of a dark grey metal, a direct contrast to the bright world around them. The landing is smooth, and Steve has nothing to complain about— the ride had probably been all of two hours— but he doesn’t feel very great until Tony walks back over to him. He brushes a hand along his goatee, like he’s checking his face is still there, and gives Steve a sly smile. 

“We’re here,” he says obviously, simply to state it. “How was the ride?” 

Steve quickly grabs the shield and follows Tony as he walks to a side room and gathers some things. Weapons, and the like. Tony hadn’t been kidding, then. This place was unsafe. 

“It was good,” Steve decides to say. He’s not sure what  _ else  _ to say, and instead goes quiet. Tony begins to haul a few boxes to the entrance of the ship and other crew mates take them outside. Steve silently begins to help him. He’s obviously having an easier time carrying said boxes than Tony— Tony has one while he has two. He  _ would  _ be carrying three if his arms were capable of wrapping around three boxes. That’s a little too tall for him.

The two of them take the work in stride, even as the crew looks at them strangely. Steve thinks they’re wondering why they have some weirdo on their ship while their captain completely trusts this weirdo. He’s not quite sure what the answer to that question is. 

Why  _ is  _ he here?  _ How  _ is he here? There’s blinks of memories returning to Steve. Tony had snapped, and it had been about a day later when his memories turned blank, like he’d been asleep for however long. Steve couldn’t possibly know how much he’d missed. He’d not considered the thought before, but now he wonders if he'd somehow been frozen again. The very notion sends a chill down his spine and a wave of nausea through him. 

They exit the ship into an open area, the ground beneath them that grey metal. There’s a couple small buildings, but otherwise pretty much nothing in the general area. A wide gravelly path rests in front of them. Tony taps something on his wrist— his identification, maybe— and a hologram appears from it. Steve’s brows furrow and he takes a step closer, standing next to Tony’s side. The hologram is a map, most likely of the area they’re in. A blinking red dot is next to the words  _ Natasha.  _

Tony whistles, drawing the attention of everyone around him. “Listen up. I need a third of our crew with Plot on the Rebirth, a third with Plan and Plant at the Federation Base, and a third to accompany me and Steve to the coordinates. Everyone  _ not  _ staying on the ship needs to defend themselves. For the good of our crew,  _ please  _ take something from one of the boxes. One weapon each.” 

Everyone gets sorted out quickly— the perks of having respect for your captain, Steve thinks. Tony bids farewell to two thirds of his crew. No one’s weapons are visible except, of course, for Steve’s shield. It’s a nice, comforting weight on his back, but not at all a warm comfort due to the planet’s weather. Steve had very quickly learned that, due to this planet being so far away from its star, the temperature was fairly cold. Not cold enough to be unreasonable, but enough for a man that grew up as a skinny kid in Brooklyn to start shivering. And Steve  _ was  _ shivering. 

He shut that down very quickly, suppressing his body’s natural reaction to being cold. This was odd, right? The super soldier who had always run hot since the serum was cold as hell. That thought brought a smile to his face, and he ignored the amused noise Tony made. Tony was wearing that black glove, along with a glove on his other hand. Where did that hat come from? 

Now that Steve really looked around, the whole crew had clothes fit for a nice, snowy winter, while Steve was left with a long sleeved shirt that left his hands and wrists exposed, and pants that were warm enough, he guesses, but did not have pockets. Steve sighs, resigned, and tries to enjoy the pretty landscape. 

Tony attempts to break the ice with some carefully placed words. Steve can tell that they’re planned by the way he says them. 

“Sam became Captain America after you, Cap . . . oh, I’ve been calling you that the whole time. I’m too used to it, even after five hundred years, huh?” Steve doesn’t respond, but Tony had definitely grabbed his attention. “There’s a movie and everything. I’ve watched it.”  _ You’ve watched it a lot, Steve mentally reasons, because that’s what you do.  _ “Your will said you wanted to hand over every notion of Captain America to him. You know, you’re not that old, wise guy.” 

The smile Tony wears is nostalgic, in a way. He wants Steve to stop worrying about things. Little does he know that he’ll never stop worrying just like Tony won’t. 

They both know you don’t have to be old to die. 

“I am the  _ old  _ Captain America,” he says with a smile, and he really isn’t faking it. Tony grins wide, and everything’s good. 

A large, pink mountain sits at the end of the path. Various pools—  _ “Careful . . . that’s acid, meaning it will disintegrate anything that touches it, meaning you should not touch it,” said Tony, nervously as if he thought Steve really would touch the dangerous pools—  _ of acid line the way. They were very clearly fatal, an almost radioactive bubbling green. They also generated a good amount of warmth around them. 

Maybe Tony should be worried. Steve got as close to the acid he could without raising suspicion, feeling slightly better now that his hands didn’t feel like they would fall off in a couple of minutes. 

It turns out that these pools are not just dangerous when you touch them, but generally dangerous. Who would’ve thought? 

A few creatures literally  _ emerge  _ from the acid, completely unfazed and appearing very hostile. These beings were why Tony had given him a shield. The air feels even colder. 

But, Steve is not yet fighting. He knows they’re going to try and talk their way out of this before they start shooting. It’s very obvious that the weapons these crew members had been given were the bare minimum, rusted with a small magazine. These weapons were not used to start fights, they were used to help the beings using them escape death. Even then, Steve wasn’t sure they’d do a great job. 

It was clear that Tony had told himself, even in the future, that he didn’t want to manufacture weapons. Steve admired him for it. Besides, it was obvious that they hadn’t been planning to attend this area of the planet anytime soon. 

The creatures do not walk to them. Rather,

they hover their way over. It’s a strange sight, and probably one that Steve will have to get used to. Expect the unexpected. 

“Iron Man,” one of them greets, almost star struck in the way they say it. “What are you doing—” Another one of them steps on the foot of the one speaking, smiling nervously, or at least Steve thinks they are. 

“Hey,” Tony says, softly, like he knows they’ll be listening to every word he says. Steve has counted five of them. “Just passing through.” 

All of them know that’s not what he’s doing. One of them raises a weapon, and Steve makes sure he’s standing  _ just  _ in front of Tony. Not blocking him, of course. That would be too obvious. 

“Woah,” one of them comments. And then another makes an awestruck sound. Steve doesn’t know what’s happening, but Tony clearly does with the way he puts a hand on Steve’s back, between his shoulder blades, and guides him to the middle of the crew. “Give us a sec,” he tells the outlaws. Then he turns to Steve with a fiery look in his eyes. 

“That was very sweet, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor, but you can  _ not  _ do that again.” 

“What—”

“No,  _ listen to me. _ ” Steve does. “Not to be that guy, but everyone knows me. It doesn’t matter if I’m being discreet, because anyone would know who I was.  _ You,  _ however, are not so well known. You need to stay a secret right now. We can’t have people in Altum hunting you down for information or . . .”  _ Worse.  _ “So, yeah, thanks for wanting to be your usual self, but I can’t let that fly. You’ll be staying in the middle for now, Cap.” 

The nickname is sent at him like it’s meant to hurt. Steve doesn’t know how he feels about it. One on hand, he’s honestly very fine not being Captain America. He’s sure the title suited Sam much better anyway. But, on the other hand, Captain America was allowed to lead teams and, as a leader, make decisions. He had no power on the battlefield right now. 

He decided to spare some words before completely ignoring Tony. It didn’t make much difference, anyway. Tony was in the front of everyone else while Steve was smack dab in the middle, plenty of people in front and behind him. 

“We’ll be on our way,” Tony finally tells the creatures, and they pay him no mind, really. Their eyes stray to the middle, and Steve even makes eye contact with one of them. He gets a lot less angry when he notices all of them staring at him. Deep down, he knew Tony was trying to do the right thing and keep Steve safe. Steve thought it was only a little unfair of Tony, considering he had a crew that was a lot better at listening to his orders. 

Did Steve mind that Tony was playing favorites? Well, no. Of course not. But he was sure other beings did. 

The rest of the journey is mostly smooth. They have a couple more run-ins with some outlaws, but Steve can’t find it in himself to care. He didn’t personally know all of these beings, sure, but the fact that they didn’t try to kill anyone, steal anything, or bother anyone had to count for something. Steve had broken the law plenty of times himself, and he  _ was  _ pretty violent back when he was . . . not how he was now. 

What used to be acid pools surrounding them slowly dwindles and turns into the lovely blue plants Steve had seen before. He’s cautious about touching any of them, so he watches the crew, sees which ones they go towards and which ones they stray from. All of them are very beautiful. 

There comes a point where it looks like the sun is about to set. Steve hadn’t realized the trek would be such a long one. He starts kicking a rock, farther and farther. The sun soon sets. 

Steve swears that they’d been hours away from the coordinates the last time he cared to look at his surroundings, but now they were standing mere feet away from their destination. 

It’s a hole in the ground. 

“Well, let’s make ourselves comfortable,” Tony says irritably. Steve doesn’t understand why they don’t just go right in there, as ominous as the hole looks. He still doesn’t attempt to go in there, because he knows he’sl not the one with power here. So they sit and wait— for what, Steve isn’t quite sure. Natasha hadn’t given them any instruction besides the coordinates. Steve was missing an important piece of the puzzle. 

Many of the crew members sat down on the cold, unyielding ground. Apparently they had no reason to worry about outlaws when it was freezing outside. Steve could understand that, but it didn’t make the fact that he couldn’t stop shivering any better. He didn’t pace around. That would draw too much attention. However, he blew air into his hands as if that would help. 

The moment Tony notices Steve’s chilled state is one to remember. He looks like  _ he’s  _ the one that’s freezing, grimacing in a pitiful way. Steve decides he’s going to act cool—  _ very funny—  _ about this. 

“Aw hey, Cap, stop suffering in silence.” It’s a quick action, the way Tony removes his thick coat, revealing another underneath, and gives it to Steve. Steve cautiously takes it, mumbling his thanks. It  _ does  _ fit him, maybe a little tight on the arms, but otherwise very nice.  _ Very  _ nice. The warmth seeps into him like a sponge. The frozen night doesn’t feel so frozen with this coat around him, Steve thinks. 

He doesn’t know that look on Tony’s face, but it’s nice. There’s some long forgotten emotion bubbling-up in Steve, and he never wants it to leave. This is comfort at its finest. 

“Much better.” 

It’s not Steve who says those words so gently, like a secret. No, it’s Tony who does, a soft smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. 


	5. The Second Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this very quickly. It was supposed to be cool, so let’s hope it still is.

_ ROUGHLY 500 YEARS AGO _

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky asks, and that’s when Sam’s world starts to crumble, just a little bit at a time. Since when does Bucky not know where his best friend is at all times? 

It turns out that Steve’s gone. Completely, utterly gone, like he’s never even been a part of the team. It’s only been a day since Tony’s death, the snap still fresh in everyone’s minds. None of this feels right, but they don’t have any idea what to do. They’re clueless, mourning the loss of a teammate— of their  _ family,  _ as much as it’s taken Sam to admit that Tony was family. 

Was.

This sucks, Sam thinks, and it’s not exactly the first time he’s had that thought in the last twenty-four hours. Because it’s all the team can think to do, they call Fury. Fury’s eyes are tired, meaning he’s gotten as much sleep as they have, and he doesn’t look like he wants to talk. 

“This should be important,” he says meaningfully. “I’m planning Tony’s funeral with Pepper.” 

The funeral. Sam hadn’t even thought far ahead enough to consider a funeral. It was almost too soon for him, but he knew they had to do it too. Sam almost asks why they aren’t being included with the planning, but the fact that he can’t get the words out is answer enough. He sniffs, unsure. 

“Yeah,” he croaks. God, he needs Steve here. “We have a problem . . . Steve is gone.” 

The look Fury takes on is one to remember because of how terrifying it is. He’ll probably find the way Fury stares through his soul funny, one day, but today is not that day. They send out SHIELD agents, though only a few. There’s not many available at the moment. It’s like some messed up search party. It’s not like Sam doesn’t want to be a part of it— Steve is one of the best guys he’s ever known— but it’s almost unbearable to lug himself around, hopelessly calling for Steve.

There’s a statement given to the news. The government hasn’t exactly been liking Steve for a while, but that’s what makes the positive, accepting words on the television screen all the better. Any information is welcome. This is America’s Captain. 

Sam isn’t losing hope, he’s just worrying more. He knows that’s what it is. Steve is okay. He’s somewhere on the planet— what if he’s not on the planet? What if he’s not on planet Earth? He has to be. Where could he be?

Tony’s funeral approaches quickly, Clint’s having been two days previous. Everyone stands outside the cabin that Tony had wanted to live in until he and Pepper passed away. There’s a lot of people at the funeral that, frankly, Sam had forgotten about. Peter Parker, for one, is just recently a grown man, and Sam pats him on the back, doesn’t even jump when Peter hugs him. They don’t know each other, not really, but the expression Peter’s Aunt has tells Sam that he needs to hold Peter tighter. 

Eventually, time feels like it comes to a standstill. It never feels like there’s any progress. 

It seems like the official search for Steve, which lasts for months, is for nothing. Steve is gone. There is no trace of him, no tracks leading to where he is. Everything in his room in the tower is left casually, like he never planned to leave. His wallet isn’t around, but his cellphone that he’s been using more has been left on the nightstand by his bed. It doesn’t make sense, and Sam’s sure that Steve’s disappearance will be a mystery for years to come, or possibly forever. He does not want to think about that, however. 

He just wants to sleep. 

It’s difficult to fall asleep, actually. It’s been difficult for months. When Fury had originally been putting together the search party for what was left of the team, he’d been closed-off, as usual, but even more so. Sam knew the man hadn’t known Tony as well as even the team, but Sam knew that this was bigger than Tony. Maybe this would only ever be about the world— the world that felt like it was weighing down everyone and preventing them from opening their mouths and saying what they really meant. Or, well, what they  _ wanted  _ to say. 

_ “Tony Stark shouldn’t have died,”  _ Sam wanted to say, wanted to make a sign and protest in the streets, wanted to somehow turn back time to when this had never happened and prevented it from happening.  _ “Steve can’t be dead,”  _ a distant voice says, and Sam ignores it. He’s going to ignore it for as long as he can. 

Sam knows that dealing with a loss is never easy, but months after Tony’s death, it doesn’t feel like a loss anymore. It feels like he’s been blindfolded. One moment his life was there, it was doing good, and then it disappeared right in front of him, but he was blind to it. His family is doing okay, and he wants to see them all, but the family he has to stick with right now is the people mourning in Avengers Tower. 

All this time, Sam has been refusing to say Steve is dead. He will probably never outright say it. It’s too much. No one else is dealing with everything any better than him. In fact, he’s sure everyone is worse. Natasha dyed her hair again, maybe a last effort to feel in control of herself. It’s blonde again, and it looks good, but it’s not her. She’s fiery, she’s passionate, she’s Natasha. Unfortunately, it’s not just the loss of Tony weighing down on her shoulders. Everyone is mourning Clint, but it’s the worst for her, her closest friend gone in a flash.

That’s how Pepper’s dealing, too. Trying to control her life. She’s been especially watchful of Morgan lately, who is so young that she doesn’t know  _ why  _ her dad is dead, but she understands that it’s badly affecting everyone around her. Sam has almost broken down in front of Morgan twice. He refuses to do it because he doesn’t want her to know how hard this is. A little kid deserves the world. And Pepper . . . her world is gone. 

Thor is  _ on  _ another world, of course. He hasn’t been around since the snap— since  _ Tony’s  _ snap. Sam doesn’t want to dig into Thor’s brain, and he doesn’t have to dig around to know there’s some level of guilt in there. Everyone is feeling guilt. Even the most powerful stand still at the sight of death and wonder if they could’ve done anything to stop it completely. 

Bucky is, perhaps, the worst of them all in terms of grieving. Sam has noticed that he’s never been particularly good at taking care of himself. Sure, he works out a lot, but he does sets and sets and  _ more sets,  _ and nothing more _.  _ When he’s feeling intense emotions, he goes to the gym, just like Steve, and punches away his feelings. Bucky’s eyes are dull, and he looks more like the Winter Soldier than he ever did. Unlike the rest of the team, Bucky genuinely has no one outside of this to talk to. Not really. 

Bucky ends up talking to Nick Fury a lot more than he probably ever planned to. The first time Sam sees them together, he gets such a jarring feeling, like something isn’t right. 

He knows nothing’s right or how it should be. Just after the official search party comes to an end, there’s discussions that involve the possibility of Steve really being gone. As in, he’s dead. Sam doesn’t handle the words very well. He snaps at anyone that suggests it and barely stops himself from murdering the people that say it’s somehow Tony’s fault. This is their legacy, sure, but Sam thinks it’s too soon to decide that they’re legends. They were just living people not too long ago, and what a worthless thought that is. 

It’s a full afternoon when Fury calls what’s left of the team to a conference. They’ve all been living in the tower this whole time. Sam has spoken to his family a little on the phone, but he knows he’s not sharing enough and that his sister’s going to start forcing information out of him. He just can’t get the right words out. It’s terrible. 

The meeting starts off as strong as any of them would expect. They all stare at nothing for a bit and wait for Fury to talk. Sam wouldn’t call Fury their leader, however Fury’s the closest thing they’ve got right now. 

Cap’s shield is suddenly on the conference table, laid out gently by Fury. It’s clean and polished, like it’s been in the Smithsonian all this time. Sam knows better. Everyone knows better. 

“Steve has been declared dead,” Fury says first, and the crunch from Bucky’s grasp on the table is loud. Sam stands up and looks away from all of them. Distantly, he hears Natasha mutter something about wanting to run away. What’s happened to them? 

The sound of heels clicking in the hall gets closer, and Pepper enters the room holding some documents. Sam hadn’t noticed that she wasn’t present. 

Silently, Pepper hands the papers to Sam and he takes them with a lot of things dancing around his head. He reads the words in front of him as if they hold all the answers. It’s official stuff, stating the death of Steve or whatever, but then it gets into his will. Sam ponders if the words he’s reading are real. He swallows his nervousness and looks to Pepper, then to Fury. 

Fury nods his head once, the action quick and sharp. 

This spectacle catches Natasha’s attention and she snatches the papers from Sam’s hands, and Sam doesn’t know what to think. 

A moment later and Natasha says, “You’ve got to read this.” Bucky readily takes the documents from her.

“I need a drink,” Sam says, then walks away without another word. He and Fury will have to talk about  _ this  _ later. 


	6. Four’s a Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not warning this before: death will be a theme in this chapter and others. Please don’t read this if it’s too rough for you. I don’t take it personally, of course :)
> 
> I updated! After a while . . . also, beware of writing errors. 
> 
> Read the note at the end!!

Let it be known that Steve is clueless half of the time. He spends the other half desperately trying to understand what’s happening, so he’s ultimately confused  _ and  _ clueless. He manages well enough, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s baffled when he sees a large group heading towards himself and Tony. As they get closer, Steve realizes they’re part of the crew. Leading the group is Plant and Plan, their expressions open but fairly neutral. When they reach speaking distance, most of the crew disperses to join the rest. Plant and Plan approach their captain, and Steve is left to pretend like he’s not eavesdropping. 

“How was the journey, Captain?” Plan’s voice is carefully polite. 

Tony shrugs. It’s a stilted, tired movement. He’s trying to act unaffected by how long he’s been awake, Steve knows, but he feels less of a need to do that around Plant and Plan, apparently. Tony must really trust them. 

“It was as good as yours, I assume,” he says lightly, glancing away for a moment, right at Steve, and Steve barely has the time to look away. Tony must know that he’s listening-in. “How is the base holding up?” 

At the question, the brothers go relatively somber. “Your friend was not lying, Captain. The base is completely compromised. There were many bodies, but we did not find your friend or Commander Fury. She must be arriving soon. Right?

“Hold on,” Plant urges, his voice as collected as it ever is. He leans in to speak softer, a volume that Steve can’t hear. They’re too far away even for his advanced hearing, so he goes back to staring at the horizon, jagged from the surrounding landscape. 

Steve doesn’t miss Earth, exactly. This planet is just as good as any other capable of housing multiple intelligent species— a small part of his brain registers that he sounds at least a little knowing when he thinks that, or at least a little bit like Tony. He’s breathing perfectly, really, and there’s nothing actively hurting him. Earth isn’t much different, besides there being a lot less pink. Steve misses having a home, more than anything, and he wonders if Tony does too. Tony has made such a nice space in the universe for himself. He’s the captain of a ship, still very famous, and is admired by many people. He’s done good, Steve thinks. Lots of good.

If Iron Man didn’t have a good image in the past, there’s no doubt he has a good image now. 

Anyway, it’s not like Steve knows what Tony’s feeling— unless he really, really does— but if Steve were in Tony’s position, he still wouldn’t be perfectly content. It’s a selfish thought, really, but he’d be lonely. Hopefully they’d see Nat and Fury soon. 

Steve’s wish to see some old faces does not go unanswered. It’s not been long when he spots red hair in the crowd of beings that has grown quite large since the rejoining of two thirds of the crew. Natasha’s making her way over to where Tony stands, scratches and bruises all over her. She looks years older. Steve has no clue how  _ many  _ years older, but he does know that strands of her hair are graying. He sees some fresh blood on her temple. Steve wants to walk right up to her, but with Natasha’s eyes scanning the area, she sees Steve before he can react. 

Nat turns on her heel, ignoring whatever Tony is saying, and walks purposefully to Steve. She opens her arms wide and stops a step in front of Steve. It takes a moment before Steve understands what she’s silently asking for. 

A hug has never felt so good. When he embraces her, her arms feel as comfortable as Tony’s coat around him. She holds up more of his weight than she probably should. It’s obvious she doesn’t care, and Steve feels the unreasonable desire to never let her walk away. He doesn’t want her to leave. He can ask questions later,  _ a lot later,  _ Steve thinks. For now, her steady breaths are all Steve needs. She’s one of his closest friends and it’s so good to have her back. It’s good to know that he didn’t abandon  _ everyone  _ from the past, even though he has no clue how he’s here.

“Steve,” she says, and that’s  _ all  _ she says. They enjoy the moment for as long as they can.

It turns out that time isn’t very extensive. It’s more quick and very painful, if only because of the way Tony shouts, “Hey, come on, we’ve got to get you safe!” He obviously just wants to get them all out of there, yet Steve feels like separating the hug is the worst thing that could happen. Well, maybe not, but it’s not exactly pleasant. 

Natasha crosses her arms, and even in her older state— which is very strange, actually, that’s she’s somehow older, yet Steve  _ knows  _ it’s really her— she has an elegance to her that makes Tony shut his mouth. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Tony says simply, and Steve shares the sentiment wholeheartedly. 

“I do,” Natasha agrees, her lips quirking in that familiar way. “Let’s go down, first.” Natasha’s eyes squint for a moment, and then she’s running over to the hole in the ground and jumping in without a second's notice. 

“Sure,” Tony says in the midst of both his and Steve’s confusion, and probably everyone else’s confusion. “Yes, let’s jump into the Great Pit of Carkoon. This is the best idea.” That’s really the only complaining he does. One second, Tony’s there, and the next, Steve is running to jump in that pit too. He’d have to ask what the ‘Great Pit of Carkoon’ is. It can’t be very enjoyable. 

Everything is dark. It feels like Steve is going to be falling forever, until he’s not, and instead is standing very upright on a yellowish concrete floor. He looks up and decides to forget that he was ever worried about this, because this is completely normal. They’re in some underground secret hideout. With holograms. 

This is normal. 

Steve actually thinks it’s not very normal, however he’s probably not an accountable judge of what’s normal and what isn’t. He’s from the past and doesn’t know how he got to the future. He doesn’t know a lot of things, does he? 

“Steve,” Natasha snaps, apparently tired of Steve gawking at the place. She’s sitting at a round table with Tony across from her. There’s many empty chairs, and no one is filling them. 

There’s some sort of important outcome here, Steve thinks. He either sits on one side, or the other. 

He sits next to Tony, glancing quickly at him. This is Tony’s call. The whole crew is starting to trickle in, and none of them are sitting down. Correction: one crew member grabs something from a table and makes their way over to Nat very confidently. They sit down like they own the place, right across from Steve. Only when their mask begins to lower does Steve’s confusion— he’s confused a lot recently— turn into relief. 

“Steve,” Nick Fury says, tone awfully blank. And that’s weird.  _ Steve?  _

Tony leans in quickly and whispers. “The only people that know you’re the first Captain America are me, lovely Natasha, Mad-Eye Moody, and our favorite brothers. You need to stay a secret. Sound good?” 

Yes, actually. That sounded great. Steve nods, affirmative. Only then does Tony lean back to where he’s a socially acceptable distance from Steve. Steve wishes he had some better comfort during this time besides Tony whispering in his ear. Is that strange?

Some look passes between Fury and Nat, almost bouncing between them. “Fury,” Steve finally has the politeness to say, subduing his wince and hoping his ma isn’t rolling in her grave. Steve wants to say that it’s good to see the man, but he’s not so sure that’s true. 

“Does that mean Sam became the second Captain America?” Steve whispers, hopefully so no one outside of this table can hear them. Why are they having what seems like a private meeting in a public place? 

“Yes, Steve,” Tony sighs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. The words being a small smile to Steve’s face. He’d always thought Sam should take over his role. He’s glad that it really happened. 

“Who took over after Sam?” 

A dark look passes between the group. Steve doesn’t like being left out, but apparently no one is going to attempt to fill him in on what happened. Now he’s only left to worry. 

The pleasantries last for all of two minutes—  _ right, no ‘minutes’—  _ before Fury decides to get right to the point. Steve can appreciate his directness. 

“We’re in the year 2525, and none of us know why. Altum’s base crumbled to the ground today, and no one has told me  _ how  _ outlaws got to the base. Almost all of the Federation members that were once here are dead. Killed with no remorse. You know what I see, Stark? I see you, the Captain of the Rebirth, and coincidently the only captain I can trust right now.”

“Sir—” Tony starts. 

“The only time you’ve ever called me ‘sir’ was a joke, Stark. We’re not kidding here. Do not take offense  _ for  _ Steve. He’s not a captain right now.” 

“Right,” Tony agrees, sagging in his chair and looking about ready to take a long nap. Steve can’t share the sentiment, he’s on the edge of his seat, wondering what they’re going to do. He wants to jump into action. Waiting around like this is just plain stupid. 

Natasha can always tell when Steve wants to say something smart, just like Bucky had always been able to tell. She shakes her head minutely, and Steve complies, listening to Tony and Fury once more. Right, it’s not like he knows the whole situation. 

“We have a problem,” Fury declares, and he speaks in such a way that Tony finds it hilarious, apparently, because he snorts. Just like that. There’s a strange moment where Fury stares at Tony like he’s ready to murder the man. Steve sympathizes in a way. Even the most relaxed of men can get furious just from the way Tony talks to them. Is it a blessing or a curse? Good thing Steve doesn’t have to worry about that. 

“This is serious. None of us know  _ why  _ we’re here. It’s not like we can ask around either. Natasha, how many died at the base?” 

Natasha glances down at her forearm.  _ Right, it’s the weird . . . technology thing.  _ Steve doesn’t exactly remember what it is they’re all wearing on their arms. His has been there since Plot gave it to him, but it’s not as if he really understands the function of it. Tony created it, right? He could probably ask Tony about it later. Natasha looks up, her face saddened. 

“Over eight hundred.” 

_ “How many?”  _

Natasha doesn’t gulp because she’s frightened of Fury. She’s never been scared of anyone but herself, Steve thinks. She gulps because of the number in front of her, whatever it is. Eight hundred beings is already devastatingly more than what Steve had suspected. 

“Eight hundred sixty-eight.” 

Fury’s voice is soft when he speaks next, like he doesn’t want anyone near to hear him. Or is he ashamed? Steve’s not sure, and it’s not like it really matters.

“Eight hundred sixty-eight,” Fury restates, the number echoing in Steve’s head. He wants to ask how many survived, but apparently being rude comes faster to Tony than it does to him. How surprising. 

“Do we know how many survivors there are?” 

This time, Natasha doesn’t glance down, or glance away at all. Her gaze stays fixed on Tony’s face, reading his expression. She simply says, “Two.” It’s all they need to know about it, really. Steve can’t imagine how Natasha and Fury feel, and Steve doesn’t know why, but the thought of these two people dying doesn’t bring him down as much as it should. None of them can seem to die, as dark as that may be. Steve thinks of it in the best way he can. He doesn’t  _ want  _ his friends to be dead, it’s just that somehow they’ve survived through so much. 

At least, some of them have. 

There’s so many people Steve left in the past. He would feel a little less bad if he  _ knew  _ he was in the future by accident. But he knows nothing. None of them do, it seems, meaning they’re nowhere closer to figuring out anything. 

The rest of what they talk about has little to do with Steve, so he sits there and feels worthless.

Eventually, Natasha notices that Steve is not doing amazing, and offers to give him a tour of the underground hideout while Tony and Fury talk about science things. She knows everything they’re talking about, she just finds it unbelievably boring when  _ they  _ talk. And, yes, Natasha says those words aloud. It’s enough to make Steve laugh. Steve grabs his shield and begins walking just behind Natasha. 

The hideout isn’t much at first glance. It’s a large area fit to house about two-hundred people, more or less, with enough bedrooms to make the Avengers Towers look like nothing. It’s a lot to take in for Steve, considering the Rebirth was already weird for him to walk around. The hideout has to be three times larger than the Rebirth regardless of the fact that the two can house the same amount of people. 

When Nat does take Steve on the tour, she doesn’t say much about the place itself. It seems like she’s much more interested in getting every detail out of Steve that she can. In a subtle way, naturally. 

“How are you doing, Steve?” Scratch that, it’s in the least subtle way possible. Steve barely stops himself from spilling a sob story. They’re going through the same stuff— Natasha’s  _ stuff  _ is arguably worse— so it’s not like she won’t know what Steve’s saying. It must comfort her to get a true answer. It makes Steve feel like the biggest jerk ever, because he’s been dodging so much from her without even trying. 

A sob story is, in fact, the right way to go. 

“I don’t understand what’s happening, Nat. Everything’s . . . different.” 

“It is,” she agrees,”But that’s not really what I asked you.” 

Steve huffs out a breath. She knows him so well it’s almost terrifying. “I’m doing fine. It’s a lot to take in, you know?” 

“I know,” she mumbles. It’s in such a sympathetic way. She must understand that Steve saying he’s  _ “fine”  _ is not equal to him saying he’s  _ “okay.”  _ It’s refreshing to think that he has such a close friend back with him. Tony and him weren’t so close towards the end, and Steve blames himself for it all, but it’s not like he can just solve it all with an apology. Steve knows for a fact that if he dared to mention their past, everything would crumble between them. 

“This is my room,” Natasha eventually says, motioning towards a room that looks the same as all the others. “All of them are the same,” she adds, “I just like this one because it’s close to the emergency exit.” 

“Great, I’ll—”

Natasha stops in front of Steve and raises a brow. “Steve,” she admonishes. Steve nods his head, silently agreeing, and follows her inside her room where he sits down on a bright orange piece of furniture. The only thing in front of him is a wall with an abstract painting, though the painting is clearly on a screen. There’s not much remarkable about the room, besides the massive skylight above. Steve can’t figure out if it’s real or somehow simulated. 

When Nat walks over, holding two drinks, she sets them down on a coffee table near the two of them and motions towards the screen. It changes immediately to a video reporting the Altum Station. The story is all about the chaos that had happened— because of Steve, really. Steve’s face and name are, remarkably, never shown or mentioned. 

“How am I being kept a secret so well?” 

“Stark Industries Universal controls almost everything in this sector.”

Steve, affronted, exclaims, “Really?” Does that include what gets broadcasted? 

Nat goes silent for a moment, watching the television— Steve assumes it’s still called a television. She hands Steve a drink. It looks completely non-alcoholic, but it’s not like alcohol would do anything to him anyway. She opens her own and takes a sip. The television flashes to what Steve thinks is a commercial advertising the benefits of something called ‘goop.’

“They developed such a close connection to the Federation that they may as well  _ be  _ the Federation, at least in the Altum Sector.”

Steve’s not quite sure what that entails. Is there a deeper meaning to what Natasha just said? Well, nevermind, Nat obviously doesn’t want to talk about it. Steve will have to confront Tony . . . on a lot of things. 

The two of them enjoy the other’s presence for a while. Steve tries to understand what’s playing in front of him despite the subtitles. There’s a lot that’s different, from the new words being thrown at him to the way the couch— assuming it’s a couch— feels. 

While nighttime is a universal thing— at least, Steve thinks it is— it does not feel universal. It feels like Earth, where the team would stay up late whenever they had the energy, talking and laughing, being what a team was meant to be. As many cuts and bruises Steve got from their battles, it didn’t even matter that he healed, just that he had the team to come back to. Speaking with Natasha this late into the night with the skylight providing no illumination somehow feels right. 

“You look exhausted,” Natasha comments, tracing the bags under Steve’s eyes with her gaze. Steve doesn’t think it’s very fair that he’s tired, considering he’s probably been through the least of every being in this establishment. That thought does not prevent him from sighing and nodding his head in a low effort action. Natasha doesn’t make a noise, just yawns in a telling way. No ounce of Steve wants to leave this room at the moment, so he asks, “Can I stay here for the night?” Of course, he’s quick to add: “On the couch, please?” 

Nat’s face does this strange thing where it looks like she’s about to show every little emotion flicking through her mind, but then she doesn’t.

“No, Steve,” She says softly. “If you’re sleeping in this room, you’re using the bed.” The firmness in her voice is almost enough to stop Steve.  _ Almost,  _ but not quite. 

“C’mon, Nat, I’m taking the couch.” 

“Sorry,” she says, and shrugs, and somehow Steve is laying tucked in bed like a little kid. It only feels like a few moments later, yet some part of Steve’s hazy mind tells him it’s not. 

“Interesting,” he hears Nat say, his eyes heavy. “You’re easy to get  _ in  _ bed, just not so easy in general.” 

Steve must make some horrified noise at that observation. Not because it’s insulting but because it’s  _ true.  _ At least for it’s true in the present context. Natasha shushes him. She hums a soft, satisfied note when Steve doesn’t protest. The bed is very comfortable, actually. It feels expensive, like the beds at the Avengers Tower. 

“Not interested,” Natasha coos from across the room, and it brings a tired chuckle from Steve. 

“I know,” Steve responds, smiling as he does. 

Natasha never says goodnight— although that may not be an altogether true statement— but with the soft rustling, Steve assumes that Nat is settling herself on the couch. He barely has time to feel guilty about it before his thoughts blank and he drifts to sleep. 

He wakes up normally. That is, he wakes up just as he would any other day. 

Steve is not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that he can’t sleep past a certain time. That time on Earth would’ve been seven in the morning, but since time is not in specific numbers in the future, he doesn’t know when he really wakes up. What he does know, however, is that there is a blanket on the couch but a lack of anyone sleeping on the couch. Natasha must have gotten up already, quiet as usual. 

Natasha not being present isn’t a huge deal to Steve. He still isn’t entirely comfortable in this hideout, but it doesn’t make much sense to ask Nat to wait for him to wake up before she exits the room. Does it? 

He decides he shouldn’t take the morning slow— they’re here in this hideout for an urgent reason, after all. He goes to the bathroom quickly and tries not to think too much about the pile of folded clothes next to the couch, which nearly fit Steve perfectly once he puts them on. The clothes are snug in a good way, and are also very warm. Both the shirt and the pants are a deep blue. There is, of course, also the boxers. Steve frowns at them like they’ve caused all his problems in the world, but puts them on with no complaint otherwise. 

It takes a bit of working his mind for Steve to remember where to go in the morning. Natasha hadn’t given him a specific location, but he figured the kitchen would make the most sense. Steve made sure everything was in order. He held his shield, and then he was off. 

The kitchen is, obviously, communal. There’s not too many beings wandering around. There’s a few various groups conversing with each other quietly, but otherwise everything is peaceful. Steve’s hungry, but he doesn’t yet trust the food available to him. Thankfully, coffee had survived five hundred years. The actual machine for it is unreasonably complicated, however there is fortunately some coffee already made. Steve politely asks if he can have some and then pours himself a cup. He tries to stand out of the way and out of view of everyone. 

The lights go red and flash. A loud, repeating beeping noise slams into Steve’s eardrums. His cup of coffee, which is not even half finished, is left without a thought. 

It’s not difficult to figure out where to go. There’s yelling coming from the direction of the room Steve had stayed in last night. He can just barely make out Natasha’s voice and the thought that she’s getting ambushed makes him at least a lot furious. Is it clear that he’s having a tough time thinking? 

Tony, Natasha, and the reptilia brothers stand around the door of the room. Apparently, however, everything is fine— with Natasha, at least. As far as Steve can tell, Nat is in no obvious danger. In fact, with the way Tony spots Steve and stares a hole through him, it seems like it’s  _ Steve  _ that’s in trouble. 

“Where were you?” 

Steve almost wants to shrug. He was around. Where else was he supposed to be?

Instead, Steve decides to proudly say, “Drinking coffee.” 

Now, if Steve had thought that Tony was angry at him for a completely unexplainable reason, he would have thought right. At Steve’s words, Tony seems to explode, a man full of an anger that is simply unjustified. Right? Steve hadn’t known about . . . whatever he did was wrong. 

“You could have totally compromised the mission!”

Honestly, Steve doesn’t want to put up with this— this constant blaming that Tony always does. On him specifically. 

“What  _ mission,  _ Tony? What mission should I prepare for?” 

Tony’s furious expression falls flat and he fiddles with the black glove on his right hand. Where Natasha is standing, barely a foot away, she remains neutral. Plan, the ever bubbly brother, doesn’t say a word. Plot looks away from the group. Plant stares at Steve in the worst way, as if he’s pitying him. Why? What is Steve missing? 

_ “Tony,”  _ Steve demands, glancing at the two people he thought would be honest with him, as well as the nicest aliens he thought he’d ever meet. The alarms only just stop when Fury enters the area, holding a thin, flat piece of something. “Steve,” he greets, with the pleasantness of his usual self. His clothes are mostly the same from yesterday, proving to Steve that he either didn’t sleep or crashed and burnt while sleeping. He hands the flat thing over to Tony who takes the chance to look away from Steve and runs with it. Not literally, of course, but he’s being cowardly in the way he won’t make eye contact with Steve. Fury, however, does not have trouble in that aspect. His one eye looks nowhere but at Steve, thinking deeply. 

“There are things we can’t tell you.” 

_ I know,  _ Steve thinks,  _ I know too well.  _ That doesn’t stop the corners of Steve’s lips from sinking down, from his eyes jumping to the floor in a moment of sadness. Yes, there are a lot of things people can’t tell him. There’s also a lot of things people simply  _ don’t  _ tell him. Why is he even here? What has Steve done to be useful at this point? 

“Steve, this is important. We’ll tell you once we’re _ safe _ to tell you.” Nat’s voice is calm. She rests her hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder. From the corner of his vision, Steve can see Tony scowl in their direction. He must not be in the brightest mood today.  _ Great.  _

“See you later, Steve,” Nat speaks brightly. It’s almost good enough for Steve to forget his frustration with the group. He thinks all of them are going to go wander off to a meeting together. What he doesn’t expect is Tony staying behind, looking put-out for some reason. Steve won’t question it. He’s back to being angry now. Tony can see the way Steve’s eyes light with fire. 

Tony approaches him carefully. “Sorry, Cap— oh, Steve. Sorry, Steve.” 

Is that the first time Tony’s ever apologized? Once Steve has that thought, he feels terribly guilty. It does seem like Tony’s trying to make him feel better, and all he’s doing is silently judging the man. 

“It’s . . . alright.” The conversation already has a weak start and Steve has no clue where it’s going. 

Tony places his left hand, the one that isn’t gloved, on Steve’s shoulder. “We’re trying to keep you blended in with everyone else. It’s difficult to do that when you're the center of attention. That’s not it, though. There’s also some things Fury doesn’t want us to tell you.” Steve glances away, wondering why Fury wouldn’t want to tell him something. Probably because whatever it is, it’s important to him. That seems to be a theme in his life. Something crazy important happens that has to do with him and he never understands why. 

Steve wants to believe Tony. He wants to believe  _ in  _ Tony. It’s tough right now, though. He knows nothing and no one is trying to inform him. Even the reptilian brothers aren’t here. They’re at the important meeting with Fury and Natasha. 

“We’ll get through this,” Tony says. And Steve, no matter how negative he currently feels, nods in agreement. 

**Author's Note:**

> RATING HAS CHANGED! Sorry for anyone here that was waiting for the eventual smut. I decided that I wanted to keep this work rated T, so there’ll be some cute kissy scenes and that’s about it.


End file.
